


A Curious Case of Friendship

by ExaltedBrand



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Bisexuality, Crushes, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Flirting, French Kissing, Kissing, Making Out, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nipple Licking, Porn With Plot, Strangers to Lovers, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:54:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27153457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExaltedBrand/pseuds/ExaltedBrand
Summary: Tana, frustrated by Shamir's coldness towards her on a scouting mission for the Order of Heroes, finds herself determined to close the distance.
Relationships: Catherine/Shamir Nevrand (background), Eirika/Turner | Tana (Background), Turner | Tana/Shamir Nevrand
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	A Curious Case of Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> in which Tana realises that 'platonic' might not mean what she thinks it means
> 
> Pairing suggestion from VioletBlade

All was quiet. For miles on end, silence stretched through Eynisne Forest, winding through the trees and crossing over the gentle brooks where water trickled down from the mountains. The trees were still, marked only by the occasional rustling of leaves or a few birds chirping in the branches overhead, and the afternoon sun broke through in small intervals, casting dappled patches of light that danced against the undergrowth. And the air was less crisp than cold – cold like the first chill of winter, cold like the silence all around that never seemed to end.

Nor, it felt, was the silence in any particular hurry to end.

And gods above – Tana couldn’t stand it!

A little bit of quiet, she could accept, had its place. Silence, by its nature, offered a retreat into a sort of comfortable privacy, regardless of wherever you happened to be. To someone like Tana, for whom the burdens of royalty had often felt so exhausting back home in Frelia, such privacy gave her a chance to drift off into daydreams, or to enjoy the sights and sounds of her castle’s gardens in Princess Eirika’s lovely company. Moments where words were superfluous, or would only distract from the mood.

Comfortable. Yes, that was the word. If you weren’t by yourself, then silence—as far as Tana was concerned—just had to be filled with a friendly, even intimate warmth, like a token of trust and affection. It was a way of showing how happy and safe you felt in the other person’s presence; that the whole world could pass you by so long as you were glad to while away the hours with them.

And wasn’t that what friends were for? To have someone you could put your trust into? Someone you could feel comfortable around? Someone you could be happy with?

But for reasons Tana couldn’t possibly understand, Shamir—her partner for the day—seemed to think differently. _Her_ idea of silence, in fact, was simply unbearable.

The two of them had been tasked with a simple mission. A flight to Eynisne Forest, skirting the borders between Askr and Embla, followed by a bit of ground reconnaissance to get the proper measure of the place. A routine patrol, more than anything. Embla hadn’t shown any signs of aggression since Hel’s defeat, in what Prince Alfonse had hoped would be a lasting truce with Princess Veronica, nor had there been any movement for months. All the two of them had to do was peek into Fort Osfjoll, a keep planted squarely at the edge of Embla’s territory, and confirm reports that the military presence there had been greatly scaled back.

In the meantime, the walk there—just a little under two hours, all told—should have afforded Tana plenty of time to get to know her partner. After all, whenever the Order of Heroes paired her up with strangers, the Frelian princess loved taking the opportunity to have a nice chat with them – to talk about their worlds, their interests, and—if they were willing to share—their worries. And Shamir, more than any other stranger, had captivated Tana in a way she couldn’t quite put into words. She was calm, aloof; sharply professional with such a fascinating air of mystery. A mercenary at heart, she’d taken her summons to Askr—a process that had startled Tana to no end—entirely in her stride, and had settled into the Order’s day-to-day operations as easily as if she’d been taking on nothing more than a new contract.

To someone like Tana, who had frankly spent far too much of her life cooped up at home, Shamir was worldly and exciting – and utterly, irresistibly intriguing.

The problem, she’d found, wasn’t simply that Shamir didn’t like to talk about herself. Almost anyone, given the right encouragement, could be persuaded to open up a little; to reveal an odd habit or insecurity, or to smile as they revisited a happy memory. Tana prided herself on it, in fact. In a war, even a small bit of joy could lighten up a comrade’s day. Whenever Eirika smiled, or Ephraim, or Syrene, or even Marisa – those were the moments Tana cherished. Moments that reassured her she’d made the right choice in leaving her home to take up arms and fight.

No – the problem wasn’t that Shamir had very little to say about her past. The problem was that Shamir had very little to say at all.

She must have had her reasons, of course. It was easy enough to see. She was shouldering something from her past; something that weighed on her face and darkened the shadows around her eyes. She’d kept herself at an arm’s length from everyone else in the Order, and her expression, unerringly neutral, was a practiced mask. But Tana couldn’t tell if the mercenary’s silence throughout their trip—meeting up at the castle gates; sharing Tana’s pegasus as they flew to the border; landing on the outskirts of Eynisne Forest and hiking through the dense foliage—was a mark of concentration, apathy, or contempt.

Naturally, it hadn’t stopped her from trying her hardest to break through.

“So, Shamir,” Tana asked, “where are you from?”

“Elsewhere.”

No good. Try again.

“How long have you worked as a mercenary? You seem exceptionally talented.”

“Years.”

Not even a reaction to the compliment. A different approach, then.

“How are you settling in? Here in Askr, I mean. I know it can all be so _awfully_ disorientating at first – so if you have any questions, don’t be afraid to ask!”

Without breaking her stride, Shamir gave her a long look over her shoulder, as if gauging something. Gauging what? Her trustworthiness? Her sincerity? Her intelligence?

“…No.”

“No?”

“I don’t have any questions.”

Then, she turned her attention back to the forest.

Tana frowned. It was frustrating. No, more than that: it was driving her mad! Thrice now, she’d tried to engage Shamir in friendly conversation, and thrice had the woman responded with the briefest possible answers – as if she hadn’t the slightest interest in getting to know her partner, or even just letting a conversation start!

They were supposed to work together. If it came down to it, and their reconnaissance of Fort Osfjoll went south, they’d be expected to fight together, too. How well would their mission go if they couldn’t even hold a conversation? And how could Tana hope in a million years to become friends with someone who was so… so _unreachable_?

For Shamir, keeping a steady three paces ahead, such concerns seemed to be the furthest thing from her mind. Tana hurried after her, doing her best to walk in step with the mercenary; but even at their closest, Shamir only stared off into the distance, surveying their surroundings. As always, Tana noticed, her face was perfectly schooled – the impassive, beautiful face of a statue. And she was just as impenetrable.

Ahead of them, the trees thinned ever so slightly; and Tana could finally see the topmost spires of Fort Osfjoll peeking out above the canopies. From this distance, it looked like a small castle, carved from the same dark stone as the mountains that wedged it in place along the border. A cool, solitary place; almost sinister in its stillness. Quite like someone else Tana could name. Then the wind picked up, northerly and frigid, and even Shamir shivered slightly.

“Are you cold?” Tana asked, rubbing her own bare arms. “I hadn’t realised it’d be as chilly as Nifl up here…”

She was more than a touch surprised when Shamir, far from ignoring her, actually nodded.

“A little. I’m fine.” Her words were short and terse as ever, as if determined to shrug off Tana’s concern; but it was an admission of weakness that the princess hadn’t imagined ever hearing from her. Maybe she could make a crack or two in Shamir’s icy façade after all.

More determined now, she seized on the opportunity to keep Shamir talking. “Do you think they’ll have any guards posted outside?”

“It’s a fort. Unless they’re inviting this Askr of yours to waltz right in, they’ll have guards.”

“Well – yes, of course,” Tana mumbled, feeling immediately foolish. “But… what I mean to say is…”

Oh, this was silly. She was talking just to talk; talking for the sake of it rather than saying anything meaningful. And it was obvious. She had to do better than this.

She needed a proper question. Something that would prove to Shamir that she was more diligent than a silly little royal with delusions of heroism. Something that proved she was taking this just as seriously.

“Do you think that—in the worst case scenario, I mean—that we’d fare well in a skirmish?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

“Two of us against several of them… or possibly many more. Would we really be able to win?”

“It’s possible.”

“But not certain?”

Shamir shrugged. “Were you planning on being spotted? If so, you might as well stay here.”

“O-of course not! I’m only asking because—”

“You’re asking the wrong person.” Shamir’s tone was firm, but strangely, it didn’t lash with its usual coldness. “I’m not a tactician pouring over maps and obsessing over the abilities of everyone I fight. I have my bow, and I have my aim; and they’ll both serve me until the day I finally get unlucky. That’s all I need to worry about, princess.”

At the mention of her bow, she stopped to check on it, planting one boot on a rock and pulling the string taut. Her dark eyes studied it closely for a moment – then they turned, meeting her partner’s. They were softer than Tana had expected.

“You ask a lot of things,” she said. A statement, almost like an appraisal. “It must be exhausting.”

“I…” Tana pursed her lips, almost indignantly, despite her efforts to be friendly. She felt as if Shamir was scolding her. “Does it matter? You’re not answering them anyway. I’ve hardly learned a thing.”

Was it her imagination, or were those eyes pitying her?

“You’re always learning about your partner when you’re out in the field with them,” Shamir said. “There’s more to it than idle chatter.”

“Really?” Tana asked, crossing her arms. “And what do you think you’ve learned about me, then?”

Shamir smirked – a rare expression, if not a little derisive, that transformed her face, chasing away the indifference. “That you want me to like you. And that you want to like me, in turn.”

Tana swallowed. She was right, of course. It must have been obvious from her insistence – but she was right.

“We’re supposed to be working together. So… yes,” Tana conceded. “I’d be delighted if we could get along. I’m hardly suggesting that we become bosom friends, or what have you, but… it’s always lovely to chat with someone you can trust.”

“Trust is hard won, princess. It takes more than a few friendly words and a pretty smile to earn it.” Shamir’s grin had faded, and she looked again to her bow; checked the string, drew it back slowly. “You want my trust? Then I suggest you keep your attention on the task at hand.”

“But—”

“But what? But we both need to rely on each other to succeed?”

Tana hadn’t even realised Shamir had drawn an arrow until it crashed into a nearby tree, hitting a crawling centipede right between the segments and pinning it to the bark.

“T-that’s…!” Tana gasped. “How did you…?”

“I told you to stay focused.” Her voice was sharp; the same scolding tone Tana recognised from Syrene. “Imagine if that had been you, and I’d secretly been under the employ of the enemy. Not that I’d so readily break a contract… but you get the point.”

Shamir walked over to the tree and pulled out her arrow, letting the insect’s body fall to the earth. She stared at the steel head for a moment, rolling the shaft between her fingers, then sighed.

“Don’t take it personally,” she said. “You seem like a nice girl. But I can handle myself perfectly fine. Worry about yourself. Focus on honing your own abilities without searching for my approval – or my friendship. You’ll find either of _those_ to be worth far less than your life. Worth almost nothing, in fact…”

She slid the arrow into her quiver, then shouldered her bow and continued walking.

“Shamir – just a moment, please!”

Tana, for some reason, had felt compelled to call out to her; to talk for just a moment more, even as she hardly knew what she wanted to say. Yet it had worked. The mercenary stopped again, her black hair waving in the wind, but didn’t turn.

“What is it?” she asked.

Good question. What _was_ it?

Tana had stopped her. She had her attention. And she had another chance.

Like the arrows in Shamir’s quiver, she’d have to make each word count.

“Don’t say your friendship isn’t worth anything.” She put a hand to her chest, standing up straight, and tried her best to talk with absolute sincerity. “It’d be worth everything to me. I’ve been here in Askr for such a long time now, and… despite that, I still feel like I’m very much in training. There are times when I’m still that silly girl who thought she knew everything about the world—my own world, I mean—from the inside of a castle. But you – you’re talented. Experienced. Focused. I feel that there’s simply so much I could learn from you, if only we were friends, or… no, it needn’t even be as familiar as that. All I’m asking is… please don’t close yourself off to me. Not yet.”

Her cheeks burned as she finished, but the words had come out with confidence. And at that confidence, Shamir seemed to hesitate. She glanced over her shoulder, then away again.

“You’re a strange one, princess,” she said. Her voice wasn’t unkind.

The mercenary turned around to face Tana in her entirety, one hand resting on her hip. Her shoulders had loosened, and she held herself more openly, tilting her neck ever so slightly. Then—in her own, distant way—she smiled.

A part of Tana was considering how lovely her smile was; how wonderful it felt, just as it’d been with Marisa, to see her cool demeanour break away in favour of warmth.

Another part of her was more fixated on… everything else. Her hair, black as night; her strange, ribboned collar; her leather leggings hugging her simply gorgeous thighs. And the way she stood – gods, she was so assured, so confident. So… alluring.

Alluring? Yes; yes, the prospect of being her friend was alluring. That was it.

But she couldn’t dwell on those tremendously confusing thoughts, because Shamir spoke up again.

“You remind me of her.”

“Her?” Tana asked. She hadn’t missed the note of melancholy in Shamir’s voice, nor the way her smile fell faint.

“Mm. Just a… co-worker from my last job. A stubborn idiot, really. The most annoying person I’ve ever met. She never shut up about ‘getting along’, or telling me to be ‘friendlier’, or… or being my ‘partner’.” The smile grew again, though it was touched by the same weight Tana had seen in her eyes before. “The only thing that annoyed me more than her stupid grin was how close we eventually grew.”

Shamir’s eyes closed for a moment, before she shook her head again.

“Fine. I’ll humour you,” she said. Her eyes opened again, and they gazed directly into Tana’s, fixed with a new, softer intensity. “For that idiot’s sake, if no-one else’s… I’ll try not to give you the cold shoulder. As much as possible.”

Tana’s heart skipped a beat. “Truly…? Oh, thank you, Shamir – thank you! I just know we’ll get along splendidly!”

“Hm. Well, we’ll see.”

Shamir turned back towards Fort Osfjoll, still no closer than when Tana had last looked upon it; but now she stood at a slight angle, as if offering the princess an unspoken invitation to walk by her side.

“Come on. Let’s get to work. Follow me, stay low, and keep quiet. And if there’s trouble… don’t throw your life away for my sake.”

Tana nodded, returning Shamir’s smile, and fell in step with the mercenary as they crept deeper into the forest and made their way towards the fort.

She’d noticed, of course, the odd waver in Shamir’s voice just moments prior; a sound like another memory stirring briefly to the surface. But in honour of their newfound connection, she decided not to mention it.

* * *

Ultimately, Tana had hoped for something a little more exciting. But all things considered, it was probably for the best that their mission had been so uneventful.

The Order’s intel, on the whole, had been accurate. The military presence in Fort Osfjoll had been sparse, with only a small handful of Emblan soldiers left to maintain it. If Princess Veronica had any immediate ambitions of conquering Askr, they most certainly weren’t going to be staged from the border. The pair of them—Shamir up front, Tana closely following her lead—had been able to survey the entire length of the compound on foot without fear of being spotted.

It hadn’t gone off flawlessly. Few missions did. Tana had little aptitude for sneaking around, forcing Shamir to cover for her noise on more than one occasion; and Shamir herself, in a startled impulse, had almost drawn her bow and fired on a guard moving too close to their position for comfort – dissuaded, just in time, by Tana tugging at her shoulder and shaking her head. But they’d seen their task through, recorded their observations, and now made their way back through the forest under cover of nightfall towards where Tana had left her pegasus to happily graze.

For some time, Shamir receded into her characteristic silence. But eventually—and just at the moment Tana least expected it, causing her heart to skip a beat—she spoke up again.

“You stopped me from taking that man’s life back there,” she said. Her tone wasn’t accusatory, but rather curious. “Why?”

Tana looked at her as they walked; took in that statue-like face in the moonlight. “There was hardly a point to it. He wasn’t headed our way.”

“In the end, yes. But neither of us knew that. If he had kept going—if he hadn’t turned that corner, but walked straight ahead—then our hesitation would have compromised our position. Would you have kept me from killing him then?”

“Most likely, yes.” Tana saw Shamir’s brow furrow, knowing as she spoke that it wasn’t what the mercenary wanted to hear. But she’d resolved to speak sincerely with her – and if Shamir didn’t want Tana to chase her approval, then they could at least speak honestly. Honesty, too, was an important part of friendship. “It would have risked our mission, I know; and I’m sure you’ll say I’m too easily swayed by compassion, or something to that effect. But the peace standing between Askr and Embla right now is a precarious one. Had we killed him—had we taken even a single life—then we might have thrown everything out of balance.”

Shamir looked straight ahead, eyes narrowed in thought. “You think one death can cause such ripples? Even when it’s just a soldier?”

There was that curiosity again.

“Consider how it would have looked,” Tana said. “Askran forces, without the slightest provocation, crossed over Embla’s borders, infiltrated an Emblan outpost, and took the life of an Emblan soldier – who died for no other reason than performing his duty in a time of peace.” She shook her head. “It would have been as good as a declaration of war. Another terrible, senseless war…”

A long moment of silence; a heaviness in the air that made their footsteps in the grass and dirt sound unnaturally loud.

“I see,” Shamir said at length.

“You don’t approve?”

“It’s a whole mess of politics. I’m a mercenary who follows her employer’s orders. Most times, I’m used to having the battle lines already drawn out for me. All this talk of ramifications and repercussions is… unfamiliar ground.” She paused; hesitated as she considered her words. “I suppose I’m grateful to you, reckless as our discovery would have been. I’d sleep much better at night knowing I hadn’t sparked a war with a single arrow to some poor fool’s neck.”

Tana felt herself smiling a little. “I’m glad to have helped.”

“And I’m glad you were there,” Shamir said, allowing herself a wry smile. “I’d like to think I do my best work alone… but it’s probably for the best that you didn’t stay behind like I’d suggested.”

At her praise, Tana’s smile widened even more. Finally—finally!—they were making such wonderful progress! Shamir was opening up to her – and in doing so, they had a foundation on which they could build a lasting friendship.

Positively brimming with delight, Tana boldly—and not a little unwisely—linked her arm in Shamir’s, pulling the mercenary closer.

At the contact, Shamir stiffened.

“What are you doing?”

She glanced down at Tana’s arm, sounding less than amused. But she hadn’t pulled away – which Tana took as a good sign.

“Showing you how two friends would act,” she said, giggling a little. She felt a bit silly – but it was worth it if it made her intentions clear. “Friends walk arm in arm. It’s a token of trust!”

“We’re friends, are we?” Shamir smirked, and her shoulders seemed to lose some of their tension. “I’m grateful to you, yes. But I don’t recall ever saying you were my friend.”

“You didn’t have to,” Tana said, grinning. “I’m declaring it right now.”

“Is that how it is? You decide, and no-one else?” Voiced more coldly, her words might have stung; but her tone lacked any malice. “What if I don’t agree?”

“Oh!” Tana made a sound of mock offense, before giggling again and pulling Shamir—so daringly!—even nearer. “Does the idea wound you so?”

“Maybe,” Shamir said, her voice a light, teasing lilt that sent such an odd feeling through Tana. “I don’t know you well enough to say.”

“Well, then – why don’t we change that?”

Tana suddenly became conscious—like a candle being lit in her heart—that her words were sounding awfully… flirtatious.

That would have been absurd, of course. They were only being playful, as friends so often were; the sort of playfulness that endeared trust, that broke down barriers between strangers, that brought joy and smiles to even the glummest of faces.

It hardly occurred to her—hardly mattered, really—that such playfulness, when shared between herself and Eirika back in their world, had almost always led to the two of them sharing kisses behind the privacy of a locked door. Friendly, platonic kisses. Certainly nothing more, and certainly nothing that seemed improper or scandalous.

So what if her heart beat a little more quickly when she looked into Shamir’s dark eyes, or when Shamir’s dark glove brushed against her exposed arms, or when Shamir spoke with that dark, mature voice that seemed so perfect for her? And so what if she couldn’t take her gaze off those leather leggings, or her leather corset, or her teal leather jacket? It was a natural reaction. Shamir was a beautiful woman, and Tana, as a noble lady of Frelia, liked looking at beautiful things. More than that, Shamir was going to be her friend. It was only natural that friends delighted in each other’s presence, and the mercenary was no exception to Tana.

But as that candle’s light spread from her heart to the rest of her being, Tana realised she wasn’t just feeling friendly, or playful, or delighted.

She felt… desire.

For friendship. Yes, a desire for friendship.

“And how should we do that?” Shamir asked, responding to a question Tana had almost forgotten herself asking. “It’s not so easy, you know. Getting to know someone well enough to call them a friend in a single evening. Though I could name one particularly annoying knight who never wanted for trying…”

“A game of questions,” Tana proposed, hoping the warmth in her cheeks didn’t show in the moonlight filtering down through the trees. “We take turns asking each other questions, and we answer as honestly as we can.”

“And if we refuse? Or if the question is too personal?”

“Then…” Tana paused thoughtfully. “Then we’ll know not to ask such things again. For the sake of setting boundaries.”

Shamir gave a low chuckle.

“You’re determined to get to know me, aren’t you?”

“I should have thought that was clear,” Tana smiled, nodding to their linked arms and squeezing slightly. “How about it? Would you like to go first?”

“Is this another declaration of yours, princess? That we’re playing this game, no matter what I say?”

“You’re entirely at liberty to refuse.”

“Is that so?” Shamir brushed a lock of raven hair behind her ear, stepping over a thick tree root running along the ground, then sighed through her nose. “Fine. Give me a moment to think.”

She allowed herself a pause – then spoke again.

“You’re nobility. A princess of your homeland. You could have been content to sit back in your fancy castle and let soldiers fight in your stead. But if I understand correctly, you took to the battlefield yourself. A risky move, given a princess’s value to a kingdom. Why?”

Tana’s answer was immediate. “Because Princess Eirika—a dear friend of mine—was in trouble. I couldn’t sit idly by while she was harried by brutes at every turn. I had to stand with her, and… and protect her.”

Shamir regarded her with interest. “Even if it meant putting yourself in danger?”

“She means the world to me. I’d give anything to see her safe.”

“Hm.” Tana hadn’t expected Shamir to crack a smile. “That’s sweet. Just make sure you value your own life, too. You won’t do her conscience any good if you die in your heroics.”

She wanted to reach out and touch that smile – to trace her fingers over Shamir’s dispassionate beauty, to find out how her pale lips felt. To see if the smile was truly there.

But she really had to quieten these silly little impulses of hers.

“My turn,” she said, thankful that she didn’t sound too flustered. “Why did you become a mercenary?”

“Nothing so poetic as your reasons for fighting. Being a merc paid well. And where I grew up, being able to hold your own in a fight did you a lot of favours. That’s all there is to it.” Another pause; then her second question: “Why do you enjoy being so friendly with everyone you work with?”

Tana had sometimes wondered the same thing to herself. But the heart of it was quite simple, really.

“I feel we’re at our best when we work together,” she said. “And there are so many fascinating heroes here in Askr – so many people to learn from and admire.” Shamir’s arm tightened around her own as they stepped over a stream, and Tana blushed as the rush of intimacy. “Besides… there’s nothing that brightens up a day more than a smile. And friendship makes people smile more than anything.”

Shamir’s eyes met hers, setting her heart racing, and she desperately hoped her blushing had subsided by now.

Or maybe it’d be better to let Shamir see her blush. Maybe it’d communicate how Tana thought of her.

As a friend. She thought of her as a friend.

“I see,” Shamir said. “Your turn again.”

“A-ah… right.”

How strange. At the start of their mission, she’d been simply bursting with questions for Shamir. Now that she was accepting them, though—now that she had the attention of those sharp eyes—Tana struggled to think of anything worth asking. Anything that would let her keep hearing Shamir’s voice, harsh and soft all at once.

Well – she could think of one question. It felt like a step too far; an invasion of the mercenary’s privacy. But if she asked and Shamir refused to answer, that would be the end of it.

Shamir glanced across at her as they walked. “Are you going to ask your question, princess?”

Somehow, she summoned the courage to ask it.

“Have you ever… loved someone?”

It was a selfish question, really; one asked only to stem or justify her heart’s incessant beating. But as it left her lips, the air changed – and the wind, once lost somewhere between cold and freezing, went entirely still. Shamir’s arm tensed up, and her gaze drifted off into the distance.

“Yes,” she said. “Twice.”

“Oh?” Tana’s voice was barely above a whisper. She put another hand to Shamir’s arm, bringing them closer. “Can I… ask about them?”

“There’s not much to say.” She paused, glancing around at the altered forest, then let her tension release in Tana’s grip. “The first was a man. A fellow mercenary from my homeland. We’d known each other since we were young, but it was our time working side by side—fighting for the same cause—that really brought us together.”

“I see… What happened?”

Shamir’s eyes narrowed, and her voice turned hollow. “He fell. In battle. We were dragged into a war that should never have happened, lured by the money on offer. I made a mistake that should have killed me… but he saved my life by giving up his own.”

Tana swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

Shamir nodded, almost imperceptibly. “He was a good man. Even ten years later, I still think about him from time to time. And whether he was right to do… what he did.”

“And the second…?” Tana asked. “If you’re comfortable sharing.”

“It’s fine. I’ve already told you about her.” Shamir smiled, but the distance held in her eyes. “A stubborn idiot of a knight who was so determined to be my friend. She could be loud, and obnoxious, and stuck in her ways with her religion... but somehow—maybe we’d had a little too much to drink—I ended up in her bed. Or she ended up in mine. I don’t know; that night’s a blur. But I realised that she was warm, and kind, and… and, well, it had been five years since I’d lost _him_. After all that time, I might have been weak to anyone’s charms.”

“That’s hardly weakness,” Tana said, as if in reassurance. “You wanted someone to trust. Someone to rely on. That’s what friends are for. That’s what any relationship is for.”

Shamir pursed her lips. “I suppose it is. There was never a confession or anything between us, at any rate. It was never ‘official’. But we shared a bed when we needed it, and spent some nice evenings together.” She sighed – and the smile fell away. “But then… then, there was a war. Always a war to ruin my happiness. I had obligations to my employer, and she had obligations to her religion… and we ended up on the wrong sides of it. I don’t think I need to explain how it ended.”

“No,” Tana whispered. “That… That won’t be necessary. I understand.”

Shamir turned her head away, and her voice dropped to a murmur. “I suppose that’s the price of finding love on the battlefield. It doesn’t take much for one of you to die – and for the other to be left all alone. It’s odd, isn’t it? I can spend hours every day honing my skills, sharpening my reflexes, making myself untouchable… but I still gladly set myself up for heartbreak. Every time.”

At last, Tana understood.

“That’s why you’d rather not grow too close to people,” she said. “Isn’t it?”

Shamir’s gaze flickered to her for a moment, then returned to the forest. “Hah. You don’t need to search far through my past to figure that one out, princess.”

Not far through the trees, Tana could see the field she and Shamir had landed in; the swathe of farmland running along the edge of Eynisne Forest. The moon was beautiful tonight, and its silver glow touched the endless rows of wheat and barley disappearing off past the horizon.

For some reason, she felt more than a little reluctant to return to the Order and part ways with Shamir.

“You’d rather not grow too close,” she repeated. “But despite that, you opened yourself up to me.”

Her heart was pounding again, and her hands felt clammy beneath her gloves. Couldn’t her nerves sit still for just a moment? They really were acting so… so _rudely_ today.

“I did,” Shamir said. “At your insistence. What’s your point?”

“What led you to change your mind?”

Shamir’s pace slowed, then drew to a halt entirely; and Tana, still linked to her by the arm, stumbled slightly before noticing. They’d stopped by a thicket of trees pushing into the dirt path, and the moon shone through a clearing above them to bathe them in a magical sort of light.

“Isn’t it my turn for a question?” Shamir asked. Her smile had returned, lighting up her face again, and her voice—not for the first time that night—seemed… playful.

Well, there was nothing odd about that. She was simply being friendly; shrugging off her cold exterior to be lighter, gentler. Just as she’d seen with Marisa during their lovely conversations. Or her dear Eirika, so spirited and delightful, mere moments before their… impromptu kissing…

But before Tana could stammer out an apology for sidestepping the rules of the game, Shamir obliged her with an answer.

“I’ve told you why I changed my mind,” she said. “It was because you reminded me of her… and because, like her, I suppose I’m a fool who never learns from my mistakes.”

Tana’s breath caught in her throat, and a blood-red blush—she was sure it must have been blood-red, perfectly lit up by the moonlight—spread from her cheeks to her entire face.

Had she heard that right? Had she caught the meaning she thought she’d picked up in Shamir’s words?

Surely not. Tana had reminded her of a friend. That was what she meant: no more, no less. A friend she’d taken to bed once or twice, yes, and a friend she’d described as… a first love… but it wasn’t as if Tana and Eirika hadn’t _occasionally_ shared a bed, or cuddled under the covers within the limits of propriety, or helped each other to relieve the odd bit of tension. And they most certainly weren’t anything so amorous as lovers. Of course that wasn’t what Shamir had meant.

But she hadn’t understood the other bit.

“I’m sorry,” she said, swallowing. “Mistakes…? What do you – I’m not sure I—”

Then, just as the air had changed minutes earlier, the rest of the world caught up.

In one swift moment, as quick as the arrow piercing that helpless centipede, Tana found herself pressed against the bark of one of the trees, Shamir’s face mere inches from her own, with the arm she’d been linked with for almost the entire walk now hovering above her head, gently holding her in place. Her lips were so close, so impossibly close; and her eyes—those deep, dark eyes Tana would have been happy to drown in—stared unblinkingly into her own.

“These sorts of mistakes,” Shamir murmured. She smiled, but it was laced with something sadder. “I said you’d learn a lot about your partner when you’re out in the field with them. Do you remember?”

Tana managed a nod, trying to focus through all the thoughts flooding her head. She was confused, she was nervous – and she was unbelievably excited. The mercenary’s right hand—deft from years of archery, but still feminine and delicate—ran along her collarbone, then moved up to cup her chin, letting the leather of her glove brush against Tana’s lips.

“Then I’ll teach you something important, princess. Everyone has a weakness you can exploit, be it in battle or otherwise. A button you can press to have them fall right into your clutches.” Her head moved to the side, and her lips grazed Tana’s ear, sending the princess breathless and blushing all over again. “My weakness? After ten years of heartbreak… I latch onto the slightest suggestion of intimacy. As if I’d throw away all my composure—all my _dignity_ —just to feel that way again. The way I felt with them. And I can’t help myself.”

Tana tried to say something, but the words failed her. She couldn’t believe it; couldn’t understand it.

Was this happening? This was happening. This was actually happening. But it _couldn’t_ be happening…!

“Your weakness, princess? It’s how _obvious_ you are.” Shamir’s mouth was so close that every syllable sent a new sensation through Tana’s mind. “Don’t get me wrong; I like someone who’s straight to the point with what they want. I wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t. But it could be a liability for you. You’d do well to be more guarded, unless you want an opponent to read you in a single glance. Were you an enemy, circling around me on your pegasus… I could shoot you down while blindfolded.”

The refined, ladylike part of Tana had no idea what to do; had never been put on the spot like this; had never been driven up against a tree; had never been looked at with such raw desire.

The other part of her—base and primal—knew exactly what to do.

She let her legs part slightly, like an invitation; and Shamir’s thigh, accepting it, pressed itself into the opening, rubbing under her dress and touching her most intimate place. The sensation—so strong and sudden—turned her gasps into a quiet moan, and she heard a chuckle in her ear.

“I…” Tana managed, somehow grasping a coherent sentence at last, “I take you _are_ rather fond of me, then…?”

She’d meant to add ‘as a friend’ – but given the position they were in, it felt too silly to say.

Another chuckle, even lighter and lovelier. “Am I fond of you? That’s quite the loaded question.”

The hand on Tana’s chin moved to her shoulder, and the arm over her head drew down, holding her hip.

“Am I fond of how you look?” Tana felt the mercenary’s gaze turn downwards, lingering on her chest and thighs, before flitting back up. “Yes.”

She tightened her grip ever so slightly, pulling Tana closer. Tana’s hands, in turn, found their way around Shamir’s body, clutching ever so desperately at the leather of her corset and feeling every curve.

“Am I fond of how you sound?” She let her tongue, warm and wet, boldly brush over the shell of Tana’s ear, forcing a high gasp from the princess. “Very much so.”

She slid her right hand around the back of her neck, fingers finding their way to Tana’s blue ponytail, and met Tana’s eyes again.

“And am I fond of how you taste?”

The words sent a deep, intoxicating thrill through Tana’s core. Like a glass of the finest Frelian wine, she imagined how easy it might have been to get drunk off Shamir’s voice. And her heart – her heart was beating so fast that it made her feel dizzy all by itself.

Shamir’s smile widened.

“Let’s find out.”

To more than Shamir’s surprise, Tana was the one to make the first move. She pushed forward, fuelled by nerves and passion, and seized Shamir’s mouth, wrapping her arms more firmly around the mercenary’s body. Shamir, caught off guard, let out a soft, uncharacteristically high noise; but as Tana’s lips pressed ever more insistently against her own, she fell willingly into the kiss.

Shamir’s lips were drier than Tana had expected, far from Eirika’s perfectly soft flesh, and tinged with an odd saltiness like the ocean, but her breath was sweet and warm and exhilarating.

“Mm,” Shamir murmured, breaking the kiss for just a moment. “I think I am.”

Then they were kissing again, and Tana moaned as Shamir skilfully teased her lips apart. Their tongues met in much the same way as Tana’s tongue had sometimes innocently—and wholly platonically—met Eirika’s – but this was charged with so much more hunger, so much more…

Desperation.

It was just as Shamir had said, Tana realised. The mercenary was desperate for this. She was throwing everything to the wind—her indifference, her silence, her single-minded focus—just to seize at the chance the princess’s obvious interest had afforded her.

Tana recalled her own thoughts. Friends were there to give you someone to trust. Friends were there to give you someone to feel comfortable around. Friends were there to make you happy, and to forget all about how horrible the world might have seemed.

She wanted Shamir to trust in her, and feel comfortable with her, and be happy with her. So this was friendship – wasn’t it?

A different kind of friendship.

Shamir, driven forward by that desperation, pressed Tana further up against the tree; and the rough bark drew coarse lines through the princess’s long hair as the older woman all but devoured her mouth.

Gods above, a forest really was no place to be getting intimate. A princess ought to have had more decorum; ought to have retired to a comfortable bedroom with the warmth of a fireplace, and a large, soft bed, and the most wonderful silken sheets. The night’s chill, by contrast, nipped at their skin, with the only heat coming from their bodies, and the tree rubbed uncomfortably against Tana’s back as Shamir’s hands began rubbing in more stimulating places…

But in the haze of her excitement, Tana could hardly bring herself to care. It all seemed so perfect. Even the discomfort was almost welcome, grounding her in the moment; telling her that this was all really happening, that this wasn’t just a fleeting, drunken, wine-fuelled dream.

She wanted to make this moment last. She wanted to savour it. Shamir’s hard, calloused body pressing against her soft, delicate frame. The scent of it all was dizzying, and she found herself grinding intently against the mercenary’s thigh as their kiss drew on and on. Something was burning between her legs, begging for release, and she couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Shamir,” she moaned between kisses. “Please…”

Shamir had surely noticed the way she was moving; could surely tell exactly what she was pleading for.

“Here?” she asked, breaking from the princess’s lips and glancing around the forest. “We could return to the castle. It’d be more comfortable than going at it like wolves.”

Tana shook her head, stubborn and insistent. “Too far… I want… need it now…”

Shamir smirked. “Quite the daring little princess, aren’t you? But I think I like it…”

One of her hands, which had since taken to massaging Tana’s rear, now slipped to her front, sinking between their bodies, and worked its way under the frills of her red dress. A single finger pressed against her undergarments, almost inquisitive – and a cold, wet sensation rushed through Tana as she realised just how thoroughly soaked she was.

A pause – then a dangerous glance through those dark lashes, those black strands of hair.

“How long have you been ready for me?” Shamir asked.

Tana looked for the words, tried to form a response, but only managed a few heavy gasps. Without waiting, Shamir’s leather glove slid through the fabric, and with those expert fingers of hers, she began to tease at Tana’s folds, gently rubbing and stroking until the princess broke out into delighted moans and all but pushed her hips into the hand working between her legs.

“Look at you, princess. Look how easily distracted you are. Like this, anyone could shoot an arrow at you; split you in half like an unsuspecting bug.” Shamir’s voice was so calm and controlled—so deliciously sensual—even as she let a finger tease Tana’s entrance. “You’re at my mercy. Doesn’t that make you feel anxious?”

Had Tana still held even half her wits, it _should_ have made her anxious. She hardly knew this woman; hardly knew the first thing about her, save for the way she looked and smelled and tasted, her skill with a bow, and the few details of her past—details that, for all Tana knew, might have been false—that she’d decided to share.

But they were friends. And friends should have felt safe in each other’s company.

Swallowing her last few nerves, she shook her head.

“No. I know you’d never hurt me.”

Shamir’s fingers slowed, and her eyes seemed to go distant for a moment.

“How can you be so sure?” she asked. “So trusting?”

Tana moved a hand to Shamir’s neck, squeezing it as tenderly as she could, and smiled through the dizziness of her pleasure.

“Call it another weakness.”

Apparently, the smile was the bump of reassurance Shamir needed – because then, with a sudden jerk of her wrist, she pushed three fingers all at once into Tana, drawing out a startled yelp that broke away into a longer moan.

“So, in other words,” she purred, “you’d _like_ me to split you in half?”

As if all her senses had left her, Tana nodded.

“Yes.” Her voice shook, but without a trace of fear. “Please.”

Shamir smirked. “You’re the strangest noble I’ve ever met.”

Tana gasped as Shamir’s fingers pushed even further still, then felt whatever composure she had left completely unravelling as the mercenary began to rub circles with her thumb against her clit, slowly but surely quickening in pace.

“O-oh…!” Tana cried. “Yes! Please… like that…!” Her legs, as if moving by themselves, drew up to give Shamir even more room to work. “Just like that…!”

Gods, but her fingers were so skilled, so agile; so familiar with everything she was doing to Tana. They stroked, they teased, they pushed deeper and deeper – and Tana couldn’t help but notice that Shamir’s eyes seemed lost and far away. Far away, as if in Shamir’s mind—for just that fleeting moment—Tana had become that knight from her past.

“Five years,” Shamir murmured, almost to herself. “It’s been five years, already… and five more before that…”

There was that sadness in her voice again, letting raw emotion break through the impassive exterior.

“Five must be the magic number… when I grow lonely enough to take any opportunity that comes my way…”

Tana wanted to reassure her—to tell her that it was okay to be with someone who wanted to be with her in turn—but those fingers were sending her into a daze, and it was a difficult enough task to keep her breathing steady. And Shamir showed no sign of slowing down. Her free hand reached up to Tana’s chest, working at the front of her dress as if it were no more intricate than a commoner’s tunic, and deftly loosened the golden lace. With a flick of her fingers and a tug, the constricting garment sprung open, and Shamir pulled up Tana’s bra to flick her tongue against one of her perky pink beads.

“A-ah… Shamir…!” Tana groaned. It was a new sensation, far beyond the boundaries of friendly discretion she and Eirika had adhered to, and Shamir, letting the nub pop free with a heady smack, seemed to be enjoying making her flustered – as if the sight of a noble princess being brought down to lewd, sordid instincts was attractive in its own right.

And maybe it was. Maybe Tana would have liked seeing Eirika in the same light, or Princess L’Arachel… or even the three of them together at once, bound as one in a beautiful, carnal friendship.

Then again, she wasn’t thinking straight. Couldn’t think straight. Her mind swam with the sensation of it all, too preoccupied to even wonder how all this was happening. Shamir’s scent filled her nostrils, but it was nothing next to the sweet musk of her juices coating Shamir’s gloved fingers, sliding in and out with greater and greater ease. Her entire body felt warm; a fiery, frustrated desire kindled with every touch of Shamir’s lips, every thrust of her fingers, every moment spent sinking further and further into debauchery… and somehow, she still wanted more.

She tugged at Shamir’s jacket, desperate to see more of her, and the older woman immediately obliged, shrugging it off and letting it fall to the ground to form a teal puddle of leather. The candle lit hours ago in Tana’s heart had long since grown out of control, spreading into an all-consuming inferno, and she tugged impatiently at Shamir’s corset, too eager to take the time to properly unlace it.

She saw a flash of teeth, then a grin. And in a few quick motions, piece by piece, the rest of their clothing followed.

* * *

Like wolves. Yes, Shamir’s comparison seemed more apt to Tana now; more understandable when she was bent over on all fours, pressing her arms and knees into the dirt and the grass and the fallen leaves and burying her face between Shamir’s open thighs.

In the end, the mercenary’s icy façade had been just that – a façade. And tonight, Tana hadn’t made cracks in it; she’d shattered it to bits. Under her tongue, Shamir’s expression twisted into one of wanton lust. Her fingers tangled in Tana’s now-loose hair, her hands held Tana’s head steady, and her hips buckled up against Tana’s mouth with every obedient lick; and as the princess’s attentions filled and flooded those ten years of Shamir’s intermittent longing, Tana found herself delighting in the way she tasted, in the way she smelled, in the way her muscles tightened more and more as she inched towards her breaking point.

Tana’s dress was long abandoned, scattered with her gloves and her boots and her panties somewhere among the trees, and Shamir’s leather armour was undone, her own boots and her leggings kicked off far away to join her jacket and corset. Only their last, forgotten accessories remained: Tana’s golden choker, a gift from Eirika which she always kept close, and Shamir’s collar and gloves, which added such lovely black highlights to her figure against the silver moon.

Perhaps the collar, too, had been a gift. A memento of the man Shamir tried, on nights like these, to move on from. But that was only Tana’s speculation. Whatever the truth, it made her even more appealing.

Shamir’s bow was still close by, as well – sat, as it ever was, just inches from the mercenary’s reach. And even as Shamir sighed with blissful release at the service of her spontaneous lover, Tana was sure her senses were always working, scanning their surroundings for the slightest hint of danger.

It was what allowed the princess to feel safe – safe as she pushed her tongue ever-deeper into Shamir; safe as their bodies melded together, slick with sweat and craving more; and safe as the two of them indulged in the most curious case of friendship Tana had ever known.

The Order could wait for their report, she decided, for just a few hours longer.

**Author's Note:**

> And there we have it -- a (surprisngly lengthy) conclusion for my stories featuring Magvel's trio of princesses! If you missed them, don't forget to check out L'Arachel and Eirika's misadventures [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26306242) and [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26685100). Settling on a pairing suggestion for Tana from last week's comments was a challenge, since each had so much potential, but all in all, I'm pleased with the end result. FE8 was my first game in the series, so it's always a delight to revisit these characters -- from a rather different angle.
> 
> I'm also on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ExaltedBrandAO3) now! How much I'll use it, I can't say; but if nothing else, it'll give me a good place to communicate and post updates on my work -- and maybe put up the odd poll or two for when I can't decide which request to tackle next.


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